


We Got Each Other

by QueenOfNewOrleans22



Category: Mötley Crüe, The Dirt (2019)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Past Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:42:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenOfNewOrleans22/pseuds/QueenOfNewOrleans22
Summary: Mick is dealing with his illness, and Nikki deals with his past addiction.
Relationships: Mick Mars/Nikki Sixx
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	We Got Each Other

Nikki was, in essence, a spark.

For the most part, he was controlled, confined within the glass in which he was kept. 

But there were times, occasional as that might've been, in which the spark turned into a flame, and the flame turned into a fire. 

This was one of those times. 

Mick finished cleaning his gun just as a loud bang sounded from downstairs, followed slowly by the familiar sound of boots thudding loudly on wood. A small part of Mick wondered what had happened, but he knew that the time would come when such details would be revealed, so he only set the gun, unloaded and on safety, aside with the rest, just as a tantalizing blur went past the open door. 

A moment later, the door slammed shut. 

'Oh, that's nice." Mick muttered sarcastically to himself as he wiped his hands on the dirtied rag that he always kept handy. "Slam the door, why don't you? We might as well just take it off the hinges." He sighed, wondering what he'd gotten himself into. 

On that one fateful day, Mick's life had changed forever, and while he never regretted it, there were times when he really wanted to just sleep forever, and forget that the world existed, if only temporarily. He sat up with a wince, rubbing the small of his back, meandering out into the darkened hallway before glancing at the door, shut and undoubtedly locked. "Y'know, this is _my_ house." He said pointedly, but it was a moot thing to say, seeing as how no answer would come for awhile. 

Mick walked over to the door, tilting his head, as if inspecting it. He could see scuff marks on the side, and the sight was enough to make him roll his eyes in exasperation. "We might as well just name it 'Nikki's slamming door', because that's what it is." Mick continued, wanting to bend down to inspect the damage, but not wanting to risk it, not with his back. 

Silence remained the only answer, a testimony to their relationship - or, rather, how one of them handled themselves. Mick would much rather just talk things out then have to deal with the silence, but knew that Nikki wouldn't like it.

"I don't know what's goin' on with you, but if we need to talk, then just come to me. You'll be feeling really bad if you don't talk to me so that we can talk this through." Mick said despite that knowledge, also knowing that there was no harm in trying. 

The door unlocked, and Nikki, with his suitcase in hand, attempted to bolt, but his body was visible weighed down by the case, and Mick easily grabbed him, pulling the runaway bassist back, until they could look at each other.

"Where ya' going?" Mick asked. 

Nikki licked his lips, glancing at the door, and then back at Mick. "Somewhere. I need to go, please don't ask me that." He spoke fast, words jumbled, thick on his heavy tongue. 

"Why?" Mick implored, loosening his grip, but not completely, enough so that he wasn't completely trapping Nikki. 

That was one mistake that Mick knew he couldn't make - Nikki couldn't feel trapped, otherwise he would think it was his only option was to flee. 

"I feel like I'm about to - to fall apart." Nikki was a beautiful mess - his hair was tangled, eyeliner smeared, green eyes wide and wild. "I wanna do it, I wanna do it _so bad."_ He was whining, like a child, but instead of wanting a toy or a piece of candy, Nikki wanted to stab himself with a needle and inject poison into his veins.

Mick tried to stay calm. "Okay." He said, voice quiet, trying to play peacemaker between Nikki and his own mind as it tried to tear him apart. "Where were you going to go?" He looked down at the suitcase pointedly. 

"I don't _know."_ Nikki whispered, like it was a dire secret that could only be confided to Mick. 

The desperation that was displayed so clearly on Nikki's face made Mick want to go back in time and stop Nikki from ever touching those goddamn drugs in the first place, if only to save him from the heartache, the pain, that would come as result of that single choice. "But you didn't do it, right?" Mick hoped to God that he hadn't. That would ruin all of the progress, careful and painstaking as it'd all been, that Nikki had done in the recent months since he had decided to quit. 

A long stretch of silence followed Mick's question, making him feel nauseous with anxiety. 

"No." Nikki shook his head. 

Mick sighed in relief. "That's good, okay? But you're not leaving. I can't trust you."

Nikki raised his hand and dragged it through his hair, getting caught in a tangle along the way. "Then what?" He asked, sounding hopeless, lost. 

Truth be told, Mick didn't know, but he was determined not to let Nikki fall down the abyss again, determined not to let him go. Of course, Mick should've known that getting off of the drugs would be a life-long process, perhaps longer. "I'm sure that I've got something to distract you." He mumbled, looking around. "Here's the deal - you go, and get in bed. I need to relax, anyways." 

Although his eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, Nikki didn't say anything in argument, for which Mick was immensely grateful. He lightly pushed Nikki, and he walked back into the bedroom, leaving the door open this time. 

Mick walked downstairs, and briefly rooted through one of the closets that always ended up crowded with odds-and-ends that never would get cleaned out unless Mick moved, which wouldn't happen anytime soon if he had anything to say about it. He grabbed the first VHS that he saw, walking back upstairs and into the room. 

The room was dark, and Nikki was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, looking immensely awkward, as if he wasn't quite sure what he was doing, or if he should even be in the room in the first place. Mick smiled, hoping to ease his nerves as he walked over to the television set, and put the VHS into the recorder. "We might as well take advantage of both of us feeling like hell, right?" He said. 

Nikki smiled weakly. 

Walking toward the bed, Mick practically fell onto it, groaning as his hip continued to throb despite no more pressure being placed on it. He felt Nikki grab his arms in attempt to help him get back against the headboard, so that they were shoulder-to-shoulder as the television flickered to life. 

"God, we're both messes." Mick said, chuckling a little despite himself. 

"Yeah." Nikki said. "But that's okay. We got each other, don't we?"/p>

Mick smiled. "Yeah." 


End file.
